


1am

by Showtime (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: Hockeyween 2016 [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Mild Horror, Other, mentioned relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Showtime
Summary: Everyone loves the childhood protection of hiding under the duvet.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Clown Statue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228696) by [Flyingintospace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingintospace/pseuds/Flyingintospace). 



Tonight was just like any other night.  
  
Patrick lay under the covers, waiting on Jonathan to get home. He’d been out with his family who had come to visit Chicago and their son, and he had taken them on a tour before they’d ended up in a bar. It was the normal for Jonathan when his family came to visit, and Patrick wasn’t that bothered.  
  
Except he hated the creepy apartment they lived in – it looked like something that had come out of a horror movie.  
  
Patrick lay there in the dark, cursing himself for not leaving the hallway light on as he stared at the ceiling. The familiar feeling of fear induced anxiety slowly sneaked up his spine, and he wished Jonathan would hurry up and get home.  
  
Cuddling with Jonathan could cure any number of fear induced problems Patrick ever came across.  
  
He thought about their next game, doing his best to distract himself from the silence and darkness surrounding him, seemingly trying to reach out to him, to drag him down into a pit of what could only be hell.  
  
It was working; he was feeling sleepy, and his eyes were starting to ache, open or closed, when there was a creak in the hallway.  
  
Patrick shot upright, staring at the pulled-to door of the bedroom, listening intently.  
  
It was normal; their apartment creaked all the time. Patrick could have sworn he heard a foot scrape on the floor and he took a breath. Was Jonathan home?  
  
Patrick couldn’t remember hearing the sound of their apartment door creaking open, the hinges screeching as if they were screaming in pain.  
  
The door to their bedroom began to slowly push open, and Patrick closed his eyes tightly.  
  
He forced himself to control his breathing whilst he sat there, listening intently. There were no footsteps, no sound to suggest anyone was in the room. Too scared to open his eyes for the fear of whatever his mind would create in the pitch black room, Patrick reverted to the trick that had always helped him as a child.  
  
He lay down and pulled the duvet tightly over his head.  
  
The childhood safety of the blanket, helped him relax slightly, but still he kept his eyes tightly shut.  
  
He’d seen too many horror movies, too many ghosts appearing under the duvet, and he listened frantically. Every tiny noise – the creak of the water pipes as the apartment upstairs flushed the chain; the sound of the elevator whirring down the hallway; the soft wooshing noise of someone’s heating going on – put him on edge, and he felt sick.  
  
He listened intently, hoping that the silence around him – before overwhelming, now, a great comfort – wouldn’t leave.  
  
He lay there – painfully aware that he was alone – in fear.  
  
He found himself to shiver softly under the duvet, and he slowly curled his legs up under the blanket, making himself as small as he could.  
  
There was a scrape and a creak, and Patrick froze, before hearing the clatter of hangers in the wardrobe, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
“Oh, there you are.” There was a sharp cackle of laughter, as if the owner of the voice was ashamed of themselves.  
  
Patrick lay there, paralysed with fear as the sounds of footsteps got _closer_.


End file.
